


Form on the Borderline

by vain_glorious



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Mental Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vain_glorious/pseuds/vain_glorious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren is still in her head. Rey can feel him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Form on the Borderline

Kylo Ren is still in her head. Rey can feel him. He’s a swirling mass of black terror and fiery rage and he’s _in her head_. At first, she thought it was just vivid memories, flashbacks to his terrible presence in her mind. And she tried, like everything else past, to stop thinking about him.

But it didn’t work. And the hissed threats, the violence he wished upon her, were _new_. Despite the fact that they’re separated by lightyears in the galaxy, she can all but feel his long fingers lacing around her throat. There’s no source of sound, but she hears deafening crashing, like blood in her ears.

“Get out,” she orders, suddenly, grabbing her own neck as if his hand is actually there.

He rages at her, an incoherent and wordless tantrum that lifts the sensation from her skin. Rey sends him flying backwards. She does it with a thought, but she doesn’t know how. This new sense just happens, like an instinct. She wanted to remove him, so she just… _does._

Kylo is a heap of jagged black anger when Rey realizes something else.

He’s in her mind, but she’s also in his.

Rey takes a deep breath and concentrates on his crumpled form, listening for his voice in the din.

Eventually, the noise subsides and his words reach her.

“Leave.” His face is down, long body drawing in as he prepares to rise again. “Get out,” he repeats her own command.

Rey finds this bizarrely hilarious. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want him here. And _she_ didn’t cause this.

“This is your own doing,” she tells him, and his hunched shoulders tense with denial. “You know it’s true.”

Kylo still won’t raise his face. He doesn’t have his mask. And when she thinks that, he suddenly looks up so he can send her a searing glare.

“You can wear it if you like,” she tells him, patronizingly. The mask materializes in the air, between them in this intangible space. She flicks it toward him, expecting what happens: he takes control and sends it hurling back at her.

His mask ricochets off imaginary walls behind her, before rolling to a stop.

Rey almost laughs, turning it into an exhale so she’d doesn’t provoke him. He’s settling, the noise of his rage dwindling into something hollow and silent.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, but his voice is so flat it’s barely a question. Kylo has drawn his legs in, curling into a crouch. She doesn’t trust the silence, now. He’s going to launch himself at her, whatever that will do.

“I don’t know,” she says, honestly. “Stop attacking me.”

She flattens her hand at him, pictures his knees sliding cross-legged. And just like that, he sits on the ground.

“Stop doing that,” he says, sounding alarmed.

“I will,” she retorts. “If you stop attacking me.”

Rey doesn’t know what he can do to her like this. She definitely felt his fingers on her throat. He’s a murderer and everything she’s doing makes him want to try to kill her.

“That’s not true,” he says, abruptly. “You’re too valuable.”

“Thanks,” she snorts, but also doesn’t believe him.

Feeling his desperation is tiring. She drops and sits cross-legged, still at a distance.

“Why don’t you leave?” he asks her, breathe still heaving.

“I think I was here first,” she says.

“No,” he tells her. “This is me. You don’t belong here.”

Idly, Rey sends a thought tendril out towards him, avoiding the rage he broadcasts as walls.

“No,” she says, softly. “You don’t belong here.”

She gets glimpses of braids, of the warm embrace of General Organa, of a tiny boy trotting at the heels of General Solo.

Then those images pinch to black, a sharp, empty blackness.

“This was Ben,” she realizes.

Kylo stares tensely at her, and she feels storm clouds gathering in their private little world.

“I found your uncle,” Rey continues, before he can explode.

He already knows, she thinks, but he still bristles.

“That coward fled rather than face me.”

The fingers on his left hand are curling into a fist. Rey readies herself for the blow.

“You’re wrong,” she says.

“I think so,” he says, nodding his head. “I am going to have to try to kill you.”

Rey steadies her shoulders before the force slams into her: “Uncle Luke says there is no try.”

~The End~

~Please Feed The Author~

 


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